Medal of Horror
by WeisseEdelweiss
Summary: Mantha brings a family heirloom to school and Thatch breaks it! Because of some feelings he would hate to admit, and because he doesn't want to get punished, Thatch tries to right his wrong - even if it kills him. One sided Thatch X Mantha
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Greetings All! After a long vacation, I've returned to submit to you "Medal of Horror", a sequel to "Haunted Forest".**

 **This is another Thatch x Mantha story. Please Read and Review. I appreciate feedback.**

 **CHAPTER 1**

 _Lunch Time_

"Hey guys, look what I have!" Mantha eagerly set down her lunch tray and reached for the red ribbon around her neck. At the end, an eyeball shaped pendant glistened beautifully with age and polish.

"Wow what is it, Mantha?" Casper admired. "It looks really old."

"It is," Mantha smiled and held it close to her cheek. In the palms of her hands she cradled it. "It's my great great grandfather's war medal. He earned it in the great Fleshie – Zombie War." She held it up to her face by the ribbon and watched it slowly twirl. The glittering surface reflected most from the pupil of the eye.

"That's awesome! What for?"

"My grandpap lost most of his limbs and an eye."

"What do you mean? They never found them?"

"Worse. They were destroyed." Mantha frowned. "It was given to me by my grandmom because she said I have the same fire like him." The zombie's expression softened and she smiled at her friends. Casper nodded in understanding. Ra had a small gaping expression on his face. Never before had they seen such a thing and there it was for them to appreciate.

Meanwhile across the room, a noisy vampire and his group ran about –making an awful racket—throwing food and lunch trays in a frenzy. The vampire, Thatch dodged a snowball-sized assault and dove behind a table. "Try again, loser!" He grinned with his sharp fangs. A green haired imp laughed hysterically, licking the bits of gelatin mush on his face. It was disgusting, but the backwoods creature could have cared less.

"You won't miss this one, Thatch!" Mosshead flung a tray of sharp knives in his friend's direction. When Thatch slipped – from whatever unidenfiable foodstuff lay on the floor –he landed hard on his tailbone. The boy wailed loudly, complaining and grumbling curses under his breath. That was it. No one shot down this vampire and got away with it. Thatch lowly growled, and with a predatory aim, prepared to take his revenge. It was then he heard someone shriek in agony.

Over at the other table, _zombie girl_ spoke frantically. Thatch saw something gripped tightly in her right hand, it looked like another one of her useless pro-zombie pendants now broken like the cheap piece of crap it was.

Also, Mantha had been hit by the tray.

There was that to his delight.

Out of his corner vision, he could see that girl covered in filth but unfortunately, all the knives had missed. Short sheet and bandage boy were hovering around her –hogging all of her attention—as usual. Yet, how they could bear to mind all her talk was beyond Thatch because that _pain-in-the-fangs-zombie_ would talk their ear off now. Oh, she would need to vent.

Thatch turned away, wiping his pants clean with a simple flick when he noted the collection of creatures gathering about. What now?

Mantha shook her arms free of the food, coughing. The smell of mixed edibles was almost unbearable. She knelt down, moving her delicate hands through the mess. Lines of dread began to form under her eyes as she searched until someone roughly grabbed hold of her shoulders and pulled her up. They spun her around violently and chuckled. "Well, look at that." Thatch laughed. "Hey, thanks for being my meat shield, zombie girl." He snorted and smugly shook his head at her.

"Oh no!" Mantha breathed. She pushed Thatch away—resuming her work—as in not paying attention to him.

Thatch nonchalantly pulled at his dress shirt, fixing his sleeve. That's right. Ignore him, silly girl. He looked on as she flung herself down to the floor again. "Hey, that disgusting color matches you better anyway."

"No!" She shouted.

Casper and Ra looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

"My grandpap's medal," she gasped hoarsely, "it's broken." Indeed it was, snapped in half, one side lay on the floor, the other held protectively in her hand. "I can't believe this." Casper stepped forward, reaching for her hand only to be turned away. She didn't want to be touched. A few coughs and mutters erupted from the other students, which made her head turn up. When Mantha looked around her, at all the starting eyes, she fussed with her dirty outfit. It was embarrassing and the attention was becoming unbearable. Not wanting to be seen, she turned her back to everyone, arms linked around her body in comfort.

That zombie was a mess, Thatch grimaced. Now what? She's either going to act proud and storm off or they're going to get lecture. He wasn't sticking around. Without a word, he turned away and left her to wallow.

Nearly everyone had stopped to eavesdrop. When the vampire was half way to his seat, he spun around feeling the hair raise on his neck. There were quite a few eyes on him, some glares, others frightened looks. "What? I didn't do it on purpose." He fumed. When only a few students lowered their gaze, he hastily walked up to Mantha's backside and growled. "Hey, Zombie Girl, whatever it is, if it's that important, why didn't you just leave it in your room?" He crossed his arms glaring at everyone to get back to their business.

"Thatch…" Casper approached him.

"No, I want to hear it from her. If it's that big of a deal she should take better care of her things." Surely, he was going to get it now. Mantha didn't like being told what to do especially if she was in one of her self righteous moods. Oddly, her back remained to him. That was fine with him; he huffed and dismissed her waving a hand. Without so much as an apology, he turned back his seat. No skin off his nose. He wasn't about to pander to anyone's pouting. Yet, before he could sit, a quiet noise stopped him dead in his tracks.

Mantha sobbed.

Thatch whirled around. Another small sound escaped from the girl and he flinched.

He took a cautious step toward her. "What's the matter?" His voice laced with seriousness and unmistakable cruelty as he inched closer. With that, his expression changed. The look of shock on his face would have made the girl feel victorious, but not today. She couldn't be bothered to have a prideful ego, even a fake one as Mantha began to visibly shake, the streams of tears dripping off her cheeks. Taken off guard, the vampire quickly got in front of her, ignoring Ra and Casper in haste. "Please don't that." He breathed. He had the most pleading look as he recalled his father had taught him, 'never make a woman cry – she will remember it.' Thatch waited with a halted breath, lips covering his fangs in anxiety.

"It's broken." Mantha's throat felt tight. She didn't want to cry in front of everyone, especially Thatch, but it was just too much.

"Just please stop that…"

"What will my family think?" She managed to choke out, sinking deeper into her own embrace. Purple hair fell forward, the lovely strands soaking up some of the tears. She sobbed quietly, falling to one knee with every intent to grab the other half, but couldn't bring herself to look. She held it close to her chest, more of the slop clinging to her flower shirt.

He couldn't believe it. Thatch's expression grew softly disgusted until he couldn't take it anymore. Someone was going to pay for this.

"Mosshead!" The vampire roared, his teeth barring fiercely. The green haired imp tripped over his own feet. "You idiot! You've got the worst aim!"

"I'm sorry Thatch." The imp moped, shamefully looking away.

"It's not his fault, Thatch." Mantha sniffed, quietly defending his simpleton minion. "You are right. I should have kept it in my room."

Pressing his brow together, he studied her closely. She was recovering. This was good. Good for him because he had a reputation to hold up. Returning to his normal persona, the boy forced the concern off his face and glared. "Why'd you bring it out here anyway?"

"I was going to give a short lecture in history class." Her eyes weld up again, but not a tear fell from her soft cheek. Her reason was perfectly legitimate. Most of them, including Thatch, had the class after lunch. The vampire winced unable to bring himself to comfort her. He held his hands in front of her shoulders, not sure if he should touch her.

"Uh…" His expression widened again. Okay. He could fix this. Who did he know that could fix this?

Ra stepped to Mantha's side and grinned reassuringly. "Don't forget, we have an entire library to work with, Mantha. We can fix this." At that the girl smiled. Good ol' Ra. If she had a prayer to see the light at the end of a tunnel, Ra was it –and if she could have a brother in that after life, it would be him.

"And maybe we could ask Professor Burns how to repair it." Casper suggested. He studied the pieces between her hands. The edges seemed clean, it couldn't be that hard to repair, could it? Maybe they were right. The three of them could put their heads together and come up with something. With her thumb, she traced away the remaining moisture under her eyes.

"Oh really?" A gruff voice replied and a violent arm reached out – grabbing the ghost by the ectoplasm –hanging him in the air – and nearly early face to face with Casper's innocent expression. His blue eyes widened. "Casper, why don't you just mind your own business?" Thatch's voice had grown hauntingly low with each word. Always had an answer, that ghost. Obviously he had meant that as an insult. Turning paler, Casper released himself from the vampire's grip and floated from his reach. "I'm about done with this." Thatch's snarky tone had returned, and he glared at Mantha.

"No one is asking you stay." She shot back, lowly.

"Look, let's all just calm down," Casper interrupted, unfazed by Thatch's assault.

"Mr. Burns is our best bet for now." The ghost softened his voice and put an arm around Mantha's shoulder, patting it softly. She noticed. The touch welcomed this time, and few strands of hair shyly fell over her face and she nodded gently.

Thatch scowled.

"Let's put the medal back in your room and we'll explain it to Miss Hopper before class."

The girl's face looked deep in thought and then suddenly fell. "I still have the photograph with him receiving it, but what am I going to tell my parents?"

"Nothing for now. Let's just see first, okay?" Casper smiled. Mantha summoned some composure and shook her head in agreement.

After some more conversation, little of which Thatch paid attention to, Ra, Casper and Mantha made for the exit and the left bewildered vampire to himself.

There was a dead silence in the lunchroom, save for the humming steam tables.

Thatch surveyed the mess he made and cursed. It was just a medal. Just a very important medal, he thought. One that probably would have been passed down generation after generation. Anger grew hot in his center by the second.

Why was this getting to him? Well, it was Mantha. She did aggravate him along with that nauseatingly affectionate ghost friend of hers, which by the way, needed a lesson in personal space or else.

Running a hand through his hair, the vampire grumbled. Those two together made his insides hurt. Why did they have to look at each other like that? In fact, they made too good of a team along with that simple mummy. Mantha, Casper, and Ra: when the three of them were together, that always spelled trouble for him.

Mantha alone was something else entirely. That zombie girl, _his zombie girl_ , fraternized with that ghost far too much. She'd get soft because of him. It wasn't the Mantha he saw suffering beautifully with him when they were stranded together. She had kissed him and he hadn't forgotten. And although things had gone back to normal for the most part, something inside him was growing for her. He'd never show it however, he'd be a laughing stock. If anyone found out he had soft feelings for someone, a girl, a zombie at that, much like his prized collection of ducks, well let's just say it wouldn't earn him points on the tough, loner, bad guy department.

No matter. If anything, maybe this experience would toughen her up. Thatch thought about this in his head until he believed it to be true, but something still pained him: the thought of a disappointed family.

The future leader of the Carpathians, Thatch knew all too well what would happen to the girl. Last year, he recalled, the hypnotic organ that put its victims to sleep had been smashed to bits. Even though it had since been repaired, Thatch was not welcomed when he returned home. Having consequences himself and breaking the family heirloom –well it wasn't pretty—it wasn't torture, but it wasn't pretty.

No, he wouldn't allow it. He didn't want the trouble of getting blamed for it. He didn't need that weight on his shoulders. And besides, his hand flexed, still cramped from writing section, paragraph, and line of the rules for an earlier incident, his hand was sore.

If Thatch could help it, Mantha wouldn't have to tell her parents anything.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

 _Sitting through history class was torture._

Mantha half-heartedly gave a short lecture about her grandfather, the war, the medal and why he won it. It was a grievous tale. Several students gasped when they heard about how his limbs had been blown away and gone missing. Yet, Thatch thoroughly enjoyed hearing about the fleshie massacres in the aftermath. His snickering stopped when Mantha got to the part about the medal.

He began to sweat.

Spit built up in his throat several times and he swallowed hard. Her face still looked diminished of pride, as if it had been broken along with the heirloom.

"And that's why, even though he's not with us anymore, it'll always be special to my family." Mantha finished.

 _It was over with._

"Thank you, Mantha. That was a wonderful speech." Miss Hopper smiled, levitating toward the center of a podium. "I hope that this demonstration encourages all of you to study your lineage. I would like for you all to share your history with us."

After that, Thatch ignored the rest of the lecture. Class was almost over anyway.  
He knew he had to act fast and kept stealthy attention to Mantha; this was their last class together and then everyone would return to their room, go out to eat, or whatever other activity one would do after school hours.

Mantha usually went to the library to study with Polter-geek and Ra. _As usual._ Then he'd make his move.

The vampire sat quietly, hands folded together on the desk and peered down with a far off look in his eyes. He would just steal the medal. Then he would collect the pieces and figure out exactly what in the hell that thing was made of.

 _Class was dismissed._

Students hastily put their books away while others naturally made a mad dash for the exit.

Ra was ready to go, however Mantha was still collecting her notes. As Casper sat up from his seat, he noticed Thatch's tense focus on nothing in particular. By now he would have pushed a few students out of his way to leave.

"Thatch, you've been quiet today. Are you okay?" Asked a soft voice, it was Casper, that nib nosing little runt. Thatch didn't reply and just sent a wicked glare in the ghost's direction. "Because, you know if you're feeling bad about Mantha's medal you could come to the library with us and help look up…"

"Does it look like I feel bad about it?" Thatch slammed a fist on the desk top a little harder than he intended. He flinched and turned away from them catching his mistake and quickly regained his composure. "Get over it." He snarled.

Mantha raised an eyebrow. Nice cover, bat boy. She thought to herself. Always the tough guy.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to help, Thatch." Ra scolded. "After all the trouble you gave me over that leprechaun stealing our powers, I had to own up to my mistake, and this seems a little like a reflection of your own hypocritical insecurities."

Mantha turned around and just stared. Her jaw could have hit the floor. "Whoa. Where did that come from?" She stated shocked. Since when was Ra the philosophical type?

"I've been paying attention in history lately." Ra smiled proudly. "It was the great Pharaoh Amen that said…"

"Oh! Who cares?" Thatch groaned. "I'm a vampire! I don't have a reflection!"

Mantha just rolled her eyes.

Casper and Ra looked at each other and shrugged, and after a few moments, ghost boy let out a defeated sigh. At this point, Thatch had completely turned his back on them all, away from his desk, and rummaged through his bag pretending to look for something.

 _'_ _Those idiots.'_ He mentally hissed. Just wait until they find out what he's going to do. He paused. What was he going to do?

Casper and Ra whispered behind him about the medal, something to do with Mr. Burn's advice failing to work, and that they would need to find a solution on their own.

Secretly glancing in their direction, Thatch mentally cursed. Now what? That punk ghost and gullible mummy were useless. He'd have to take things into his own hands. Who could he manipulate to do this for him? Yet, perhaps he should work alone as vampires do, he determined. That and who better to take the glory when he showed up, impressing the girl with her repaired medal? Seemed like a good idea. Grabbing his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and walked out, not so much as looking at the three. His mind mulled over the resources available to him. He had to be sneaky. No one could know. So, where to begin? Pondering for a few short moments, he smiled a wide toothy grin.

Time to pay the girl's' dormitory a visit.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

 _They were all in the library._

Perfect.

Thatch looked up and down the hallway hanging upside down from the ceiling's shadows. His bat wings wrapped around him like a wasp's cocoon, hair pulled down by gravity's weight. It was stealth mode time and–with the care of a vampire—put a plan to work. When the coast was clear, he leaped down in a puff of smoke. Thatch kneeled to catch himself, and a black nailed hand shooed away any remaining mist. At once, he resumed his walk.

The boy crept down the hall, stopping in front of a green door, and once again, paused to monitor the hallway. There was no reason to get caught now was there? He opened the door and found himself not alone.

Dummy Girl, the possessed wooden puppet was putting away that last of her texts when she saw him in the door way.

"Thatch!" She called. "What's wrong, forget you're a boy? This is the girl's room!"

"Come on, Dummy Girl, you need to invite me in!" Thatch pressed his hands against a barrier in the door way. It was empty and free to walk through, minus the vampire in the way. Yet, he couldn't enter. Since the ladies had taken up residence, Thatch couldn't just walk right in without permission.

"What's your problem, doofus?!" She challenged.

He whispered hoarsely. "Invite me in."

"Why should I? This is my room you fool!" Dummy Girl joked. "And I'm the only funny one around here, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah." He pushed harder. Nothing happened, however a brilliant energy hissed from the pressure – spitting tendrils of bright blue back at the vampire. When he tried to force himself in, it nearly threw his hand back in his face. "I just have to do something." He groaned.

"Better not be a dirty trick on me!" The puppet hollered.

"Shh! No! Keep it down. I'm playing a trick on Mantha." He lied.

"Jeeze, Thatch, what a way to kick someone when they're down." Dummy Girl cackled. "You bet your fangs I'll let you come in!" The wooden doll moved to the side with a cruel smile.

Thatch stepped forward. The near invisible barrier was gone and he walked past the entrance with ease. "Yeah, and I have do this alone." He replied with enough inflection for her to take a hint.

"No! Way!" She raced in front of him. "I wanna see a show! I wanna see this!"

"Get out or else." He replied flatly.

"What a way to thank me for letting you in, bat breath!" Dummy Girl marched out of the room grumbling and groaning about how she didn't know why she hung around him. No matter. Thatch had work to do.

"Alright, which one of these is Mantha's?" He whispered. Which closet belonged to that goodie-goodie? There was no way to know unless he went through everything. Good. That meant he'd have to rummage through everybody's stuff. He made a mental note to pick up anything he could use for blackmail.

Let's see. Well, there was Dummy Girl's closet. He saw pictures of her family hanging on the inside door, along with the carved names of music metal bands. She was going to get it for that, _vandalism_ , the thought with a smile.

The other side of the closet belonged to…

He looked up and down. It was the most sickening display he'd ever seen. Pro zombie ornaments and positive messages taped and decorated to the walls made it look like a shrine. It made him slightly ill. Even though Mantha was different, most zombies were slow-moving and dimwitted. Thatch shook himself to attention and continued to look.

A light blue jacket and a winter coat hanged inside the door. He frowned. These shades of blue didn't suit her well. He'd make her wear black and a bright indigo, like the color of her hair. She'd look much better in that. He pushed those aside, and found a dark piece of clothing hanging from a wall hook. It was black. Thank the under world, she had some fashion sense after all.

Inspecting it for pockets, he realized the material felt familiar. At one end, he noted the sharp pointed teeth that made a wave pattern to the other side.

It was his cape. The one he wanted her to keep. She still had it.

He smiled again, a warm feeling invading his center. He found himself feeling proud and held his head a little higher.

 _Darn right_ she still had his cape.

He continued searching through her personal items. He found make up, old photos and several feminine hygiene products that left him a bit curious, but shyly put them back.

"Where is it?" He whined. Could she have taken it with her? "Why doesn't she listen to me about taking care of her things?" Mumbling, he left the door open and stepped out into the middle of the room. They should be returning soon.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was getting late.

"This is going to have to wait."

But until then, he'd have to lay low. What a mess if he were found out in the girl's dorm. Then again, Dummy Girl already knew and she could squeal on him. Imagine the scariest creature in school being labeled a pervert or worse. No. He would just explain what he lied to the wooden doll. He was there for a prank and nothing more. Thatch looked around and noted how plain the room appeared save for the cleanliness. He was about to go through the next closet, for fun until he heard approaching footsteps.

"Alright, guys, thanks for your help." He could hear a girl speak from a distance, she sounded tired. It sounded like Mantha. Time to run like a bat out of hell! Thankfully, she was just around the corner. If he was slick enough, he'd avoid some major embarrassment. Shutting Mantha's closet door, he tip toed out and started off in the opposite direction.

No luck. Mantha sighed. Well, perhaps not completely. They sought advice from the Answertorium, but from what she understood, the repairs would be nearly impossible to mend. It was too dangerous. She and her friends could all very well be destroyed. She couldn't risk their safety for such a thing, but still, the thought of telling her parents crumbled all hope. Lost in thought, she rounded the corner and glanced to see Thatch walking in front of her. She could have sworn she saw the vampire's cape trail behind him out of her room. _Was he in her room?_ What could he be up to? The thought of it frightened her.

Since Haunted Forest class, Thatch had been a bit more out of control: calling her out on things than usual, smugly addressing her, and overall being a worse pain. Sometimes she'd catch him staring at her like today in class, all of which might spell trouble for her if he had any other dirty tricks up his sleeve.

Should she follow him?

No.

He'd notice and then things would really hit the fan.

Mantha grimaced, she was angry with the brat no doubt about it. He couldn't be bothered to help look for a solution. Talk about responsibility. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. Then again, what should she expect? This was Thatch she was talking about.

 _Same old same old_ , she sighed.

Some creatures never change.


End file.
